


Give em the third degree

by thiefofbluefire



Series: Query: is it illegal to save the world by creating a paradox? [2]
Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Exposition, Imprisonment, Interrogation, Mild Language, Non-Linear Narrative, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefofbluefire/pseuds/thiefofbluefire
Summary: They ultimately decided to send Rock in for this one. Standard procedure type questions, nothing that would be too invasive, but perhaps the android would be responsive to a civilian... or another robot.And who better than the one who helped detain him in the first place?





	Give em the third degree

An old wariness that was installed with his combat ensemble activated when he reached the door. The emotional cortex supplied it as apprehension. A common response of his to danger.  
Odd, considering that the android in the interrogation room was unarmed.  
Though he and his compatriots had escaped before.  
According to the other two, they had escaped with the aid of an unknown third party with information that led them to a very much not-okay proto man.

The red one.  
Blonde hair.  
Blue eyes.  
Narrow eyes.

Wily

'Kill. He's going to kill me.'

"Compile later," Rock muttered before turning the latch on the door.

Even the tall red one was cooperating.

This one had refused to give the official officers his name.

 

Rock opened the door slowly, dialing back his emotional cortex so that apprehension would stop making his hands shake.

The robot sitting in the chair at the table was in, more or less, casual clothes; buster gauntlets long since removed, chest plating off in favor of a blue vest.  
No pockets.

Unarmed.

Not harmless.

When Rock stepped into the room, the prisoner straightened in his seat, eyes going wide for a single second before narrowing into that piercing gaze that agent Krantz described.

"Like he can see through you." She said.

Rock took a short breath before sitting at the table and addressing the prisoner.

"Do you know who I am?" Rock asked, terse in a way that wouldn't be acceptable at home.

The prisoners green eyes darted between Rock and the two way mirror behind him, his eyebrows scrunching with the motions.

"Not by name," the prisoner eventually answered. "But I have seen you before. You were one of the first responders during the... My first attack."

There was hesitation there, but his pokerface was still holding.

"I'm called Mega Man," Rock continued. "And I am your warden for today."

The android gave Rock a once over, eyes lingering on his buster arm before returning to eye level.

"I see," he said.

No reaction.  
Back to business.  
Rock reached into the manilla folder he had and passed two photos between them on the table, going for a slightly different approach than agent Krantz and her colleagues.

"What is your relationship with these individuals?"

The android looked at the photos once before straightening back up.

"Their names are Axl and Zero, and they're partners of mine," he paused, pursed his lips with his eyebrows drawn down, then he added. "...officially. Also officially, but you won't find it written down anywhere, we're friends. We've known each other for a long time."

The explanation correlated with the other two stories. Next order of business.

"What is your primary function?"

The androids eyes widened again and he wetted his lips, looking down at his hands folded on the table. He worked his jaw and fidgeted for a moment.

Human gestures. Rocks database supplied.  
Very human gestures.

The android caught Rocks scrutiny and frowned. He sat back from the table before holding his head higher.

"My 'primary function'," he began. "Is to serve as a bridge between the gap of humans and robots. I was given the capacity to think and act completely of my own accord. I can feel the full range of emotion, and I parse it in the same manner as a human would."

Rock felt his own eyes widen at the declaration. Was the prisoner cooperating?

"A-all of them..?" He asked.

The android nodded, frowned, then for no reason at all, he took his hands and smacked his palms to his cheeks with a firm FWAP sound. The resulting facial expression the android made was akin to a chubby bunny or a chipmunk. 

Rock gaped at the sudden action, confused.

But before he could ask the prisoner what he was doing, the android went cross eyed and blew a short rasberry as he stuck the end of his tongue out.

It was just absurd enough to initiate Rock's humor system, and he cracked a wide grin before he started giggling profusely.

The prisoner dropped the silly face in favor of a warm smile whilst Rock composed himself.

 

\---

"Was that a glitch?" Agent Krantz asked Dr Light behind the glass.

To which the doctor replied in a soft, amazed voice.

"No. No it was not."

\---

 

"What.. what was that for?" Rock asked when he found his voice, still grinning.

The prisoners smile twisted ruefully, and he folded his hands on the table before blowing out a sigh.

"My 'primary function' is a little different from my occupation," he explained. "That's more or less a bigger part of what all has been happening, and probably what you need to know my take on. What I do for a living can be a pretty heavy subject, so I figured I'd lighten up the mood before I dragged it back down."

Rocks smile fell. Remembering himself, he straightened up. Putting on a patient face, Rock nodded for the prisoner to continue.

And continue he did.

"Where, or when, I'm from, humans and reploids live on a shaky kind of even ground. Sure, human life still has priority, but we reploids don't have a society that exists outside of theirs.  
Now, humans have always had some kind of stigma that plagues them even now; corruption, disease, murderous intent, etc. All things that lead to catastrophe if left unchecked. They don't always go hand in hand, but when they do, catastrophe turns to disaster."

The prisoner ticked points off on his fingers as he spoke.

"Why do I bring this up? Because reploids have something similar. Think of it as that corruption, disease, and murderous intent, all happening at the same time."

The word 'insanity' came to mind as an extrapolation, as well as a single frame of Wily cackling overhead.  
Rock blinked and bit his lip.

The prisoner folded his hands on the table, leaning over them.

"It's not particularly easy to track this kind of thing in a set human population, so naturally it's no easier for the reploid side either. The most that can be done is to form a group of individuals willing to find and face what these ill intending reploids are up to."

Then he gathered his palms into his lap, sitting straighter.

"We do what we can. It isn't always enough, wars and the like still happen, but we try. When a reploid displays Maverick behavior, then we are deployed."

Rock took a moment to parse the explanation. Sure, there was a couple of extra details, but it was in line with the other two stories.

"So you're basically a cop, but for robots."

The prisoner pursed his lips, humming.  
"... More like a SWAT team."

"I see," Rock said as he gathered the photos of the other two hunters. From the manilla folder, he then grabbed a photo that he had taken himself before pushing it towards the Android.

"And, what does the material in this photo have to do with your occupation?"

The other two, Axl and Zero, weren't able to give any appropriate explanation for it, saying that this prisoner knew more.

The Android gave a short glare at the photo of him, ravaging property like a madman, covered in the purple compound. He worked his jaw, considering. Then he looked over his shoulder as if someone there was listening as he explained.

"Maverick hunting gets harder faster than it gets easier," the android sighed. "When a Maverick incident occurs, there are many factors at play," then he turned back to Rock, making gestures with an outstretched hand. "What kind of reploid is involved? What kinds of equipment do they have access to? Are they coherent of their actions? Are they being forced to act like this from an external party? How much damage is being caused?"

He then shook his head.

"That last one is the subject for most of the headaches in the higher ranks, and is the main issue that comes up where public relations are concerned about our practices."

The android leaned his elbows on the table.

"So of course, we always have a team or ten working on ways to either augment our weapons to minimize collateral damage or a method to maximize the reconstruction process after the fact."

The prisoner gave another sigh.

"This, was supposed to be a combination of the two," he elaborated, nodding to the photo as Rock pulled it back to look at it himself. "It's actually an exploration of something that I proposed years ago on the subject of non-violent methods of handling Maverick incidents. '(...)..immobilize the subject and then extract for analysis and potential treatment.'  
I wrote a whole essay about implementing the necessary trainings and equipment to prevent further harm for both the Maverick reploid, and to any victims of the given incident in order to learn more about what makes a reploid Maverick."

"By the sound of it, your words fell on deaf ears." Rock guessed, looking back towards the mirror and making a face.

He sure had gotten the prisoner talking.

"Actually no," the android confessed, and Rock snapped his attention back to him. "It went through, and I was made captain of the first squad of non-lethal Maverick hunters..."

"Captain huh?" Rock cleared his throat. "So where does the 'Sand' come into play?"

"Well... After my non-lethal task force crashed and burned, I thought that would be the last time I saw someone working towards that kind of approach. Then, maybe a month ago, my essay came up during a press conference, wherein a few reploid scientists I was colleagues with in the task force unveiled their... Masterpiece, for lack of a better word. The Sand is a compound that can be used for aiding in construction as a temporary structure or adhesive; you can mold it into any shape with the right code applied. Therefore, in the hands of a capable hunter, it can also be used as a weapon or armor augment... Like you see there."

The android then slumped in his chair, hanging his head.

"And you know what? It works. It actually works." He raised his head, ranting. "It can be used for holding together supporting beams before welding, it can be molded into a ladder, and you can make basically disposable weapons and armor out of it, big or small. It. Works."

Rock grimaced.  
"So what happened?"

The android cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, folding his hands on the table.

"A... Noteworthy amount of cases in which a reploid goes Maverick are caused by a virus entering their main CPU. Not just any computer virus, mind you, it's... More like a demon. An.. evil thing that slips into your body and turns you into a deranged, uncontrollable version of yourself. We have no real way of treating this virus, and it's been the undoing of many, many reploids."

Rock drew a parallel to a memory of the roboenza outbreak. Recalled seeing Roll helpless in her bunk, and a tunnel visioned mirror shattering under his fist.

"And now, it's found out how to use the Sand...." The prisoner continued, mirthful. "I was.. excited to try it out for myself. Something that I inspired someone to create that wasn't meant to be used for evil... And then, we got the call that something had happened in the research hall and..." He gave a sigh. "I don't actually remember exactly what happened, but I do know that I got a mouthful of it... You can guess the rest."

And Rock could guess. Could relive the day if he hit replay in his memory core. The prisoner was cooperating all right.

"That still doesn't explain how you got here," the blue bomber pressed. "Or how you knew about protoman at the convention."

"I've told this story before, Mega Man," the prisoner replied, scrunching his eyebrows down, closing up. "I don't know how I got here, and I don't actually remember doing half of the damage I caused when I first arrived." 

He then brought up a hand, rubbing circles into his temples.

"As for how I escaped, I was engaged in my cell by an unknown third party member who gave me the shadow armor chip you have in custody before cutting the power in the entire cell block. He told me to rendevous with Zero and Axl in a building downtown that has since been demolished. We turned in everything we found there into evidence when you found us, and I never heard back from the one who spoke to me in the cell, nor do I know who he was."

Rock took an extra moment to parse that, just to make sure he actually caught it all, before blowing out a patient breath.

This was how the prisoner reacted to the other officers questions. Clamming up, being short. He was about to stop. 

"Okay," the blue bomber said finally. "Okay. I believe you. I just need one more thing, before I go."

The android met his eyes, flicking from the left to the right as if searching for an answer himself.

"What," Rock wet his lips, clearing his throat. That really was a killer stare. "What's your name?"

The android blinked, surprised.

"You.. I.." he gave a short, breathless laugh. "Standard procedure says that's one of the first things you ask."

"I know," Rock admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I heard you were giving the officers a hard time about it. How come?"

The prisoner raised an eyebrow, lips in a thin line.

"The question of my name is usually followed up with 'who created you?', and I know that answering that would shift some of the blame for the property and psychological damage away from myself and my mistakes regarding the Sand." Then he shook his head. "For the sake of my own sanity, and for anyone I hurt during my 'rampage', I can't have anyone thinking that I wasn't responsible for it. Better to associate blame with a person as a whole, not just a name... Or a father."

Rock felt his emotional cortex shift sympathy into his neck and his hands, making him fidget. He didn't have an argument for that logic. He turned to the mirror behind him, as if doctor Light could offer a reason to ask at this point.

the prisoner looked over Rock, tilting his head in consideration. Then he looked to the two way mirror, raising an eyebrow.  
Rock redirected his gaze at the android, who pressed his lips into a small smile as he turned back to Rock.

Rock cleared his throat. He looked into the prisoners green eyes, wondering about the thought process of this... Person.

And he gazed back, clearing his own throat, which made Rock straighten.

"...It's X. Just, X."

Rock blinked, a bit dumbfounded, before he processed what had just happened.

"... Your name is X?"

X nodded.

Rock plugged the letter into his association matrix and came up with a single frame of a half finished scribble on doctor Lights desk.

A mathematic equation about the heart.

Rock felt his eyes widen, and he began to gather the manilla folder into his arms.

"Well then," the blue bomber began. "Thank you for your cooperation, X."

He stood up and walked towards the door. When he reached the latch, he stopped, looked back at the android sitting at the table with an... Oddly resigned look on his face. Rock hummed, pretending to be clearing his throat, to get Xs attention. Green eyes regarded his own blue orbs as though asking, 'something else?'

"And X? It was nice to meet you."

 

"... It was nice meeting you too, Mega Man."


End file.
